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tonight's the night

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Patrick says it while they’re slow-dancing in the middle of the cafe, after Twyla’s third gritted-teeth-smile comment about needing to close up soon. As they sway together under the spinning spots of light, Patrick squares his shoulders, squeezes David’s hips, looks him dead in the eye and says, “David, I want tonight to be the night.”

“Mkay,” David says, scrunching his face up. “I think I’m going to need a smidge more specificity. Tonight’s already been fairly monumental.”

There’s a pause. It’s no secret that Patrick struggles to voice his wants sometimes, even when it’s something as simple as where to eat for dinner. David has to needle him until he’s riled enough to spit it out, or simply refuse to make a decision so he’s forced to. David’s pretty sure that’ll always be a part of who he is. It scares him how okay with that he is; how easily he accepts the whole of him. 

Regardless, though, this is not one of those times. Patrick’s expression is cool and level, and the silence isn’t hesitation but more like a measured consideration. In his mind, David pictures, he’s neatly ordering each word of his request, taking his time to organise them into the most efficient sentence. He steps in even closer as they turn slowly, and presses a gentle kiss to David’s cheek before bringing his lips to his ear.

“I want you to come inside me.”


They talked about it a couple of weeks ago. Eleven days, actually - not that David’s been counting, or shamelessly jerking off over it since and wondering when it would actually happen. It wasn’t entirely the first conversation, but the first serious one. 

Patrick had been hesitant that evening, his eyes wide and shy as he asked what if that’s okay with me? when David briefly thought he’d forgotten to bring condoms. The box had turned up at the bottom of his bag, buried under a small fortune’s worth of skincare, but something had been opened up, so. They talked about it. 

David shut his eyes and dug his nails into his palms and talked about Sebastien and Fabrício and that nameless guy from the art festival in Dubai. He talked about the sick lurch in his stomach when something suddenly felt different, but questioning it would mean the sex would stop and he’d spend the night alone. He talked about the bleary, lonely mornings when the only clue as to what had happened was the mess leaking onto his Egyptian cotton sheets, but he was never sure if he’d said no, so it probably wasn’t a big deal. He talked about the health scares and the scalding hot showers and the grimy shame which still claws at his reflection in the mirror.

Suffice to say, David wasn’t ready to revisit that. The picture of Patrick fucking him raw was tantalising, but he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to untangle it from the ghosts of his past. And of course, Patrick held him and kissed him and assured him a thousand times over that they never, ever had to do that if David didn’t want it, and David’s eyes prickled dangerously until he switched the focus to Patrick, and Patrick sheepishly confessed that he’d mostly thought about it, um, the other way around.

Sometimes I get off thinking about you coming inside me. I think... I wanna know what that feels like. I’d be okay with trying it, you fucking me without one. If - if you want to.  

And, well. That was something entirely different.


As soon as they get to Patrick’s, Patrick hops into the shower with a delightfully excited grin, leaving David to perch on the edge of the bed and definitely not freak out. Patrick’s usual brisk, businesslike showers often stretch to a thorough twenty minutes pre-sex, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary; but he feels warm all over thinking about what he’s doing in there. He wonders if he’s being extra careful, if he wants to get himself immaculately clean for this.

When Patrick emerges, he’s all soft and shower-pink, but there’s a glint of determination in his eye which is… new. David’s seen him filled with desire before, seen him wanton and pleading and demanding - but this is different, somehow. During his own shower, David muses that he doesn’t ever think he’s seen him quite so confident - no, that’s not right. Patrick is always confident. He’s never seen him this comfortable. It’s like his skin suddenly fits him like a glove; he’s inhabiting his body with a grace that wasn’t there before. David’s so fucking proud of him he could cry, because that’s all he wants for Patrick - to be happy in himself, entirely.

Patrick’s lazily stroking his dick with his legs spread invitingly when David steps back into the room, one finger just rubbing over his hole, like he’s showing David exactly what he can have. He’s already laid down a designated towel, which is very efficient of him. David pounces and loses himself in him within seconds, both of them gloriously naked and pressed close everywhere they can humanly manage as David’s still-damp hair drips onto Patrick’s forehead.

“Hey,” David whispers, trying to ignore the things Patrick’s doing to his cock, because he actually wants to be sincere. “Listen. Are you sure about this? Because you can change your mind right now. Or, I mean, any time, obviously.”

“David.” Patrick smiles. “I’m sure.”

“Okay but, I know this whole day was… emotional for you. And I know sometimes when there’s so many feelings going on it’s just a lot and it might not be the best time to make that kind of--”

Patrick shushes him with a kiss which starts sweet and ends with a thrilling scrape of teeth at his bottom lip. “I know. And I love you for being so considerate. But it’s not about that. It just feels right, David. Tonight feels right.”

David thumbs over his cheek, cradling his face like it’s a precious jewel. “Why tonight?”

Patrick leans into the touch, turns his head to press his lips to David’s palm. “I don’t want to hold anything back anymore. I feel - I don’t know. More free? Like the whole world’s just blown wide open for me now, and there’s no reason I can’t… have it. You know?” He closes his eyes, voice soft. “I wanna try things with you. Explore things with you. I want all of you, David, and I don’t want anything else between us. I’ve never felt more sure of it.”

David has to kiss him properly then, if only because the words are too much - he asked for them, and he adores them, but their weight crushes his chest so deliciously that it’s almost unbearable. It turns heated quickly, as it always does, deep and all-consuming and Patrick’s hands are everywhere. He’s so grabby and insistent on pressing right into David’s space that David practically has to wrestle him onto his stomach and place a hand on the small of his back to be able to break away to get the lube, laughing breathlessly as Patrick wiggles his hips at him.

If David spends longer than usual prepping him, it’s because it’s his birthday and he’s an extremely generous boyfriend. It’s obviously not because he needs a little time to work up to it himself. There’s a nervous anticipation fizzing in his veins and an irritating, hand-wringing voice in his head. What if Patrick doesn’t like it? What if I don’t like it? Or worse; even with the years separating his new and old lives, a committed relationship and an in-date clear set of test results, the old niggling fear remains - what if I give him something? What if I’m not clean?  

Rationally, he knows there’s no way he’s caught anything; sometimes, though, he feels sort of… grubby and used-up, compared to Patrick. His body has been touched and fucked and used by so many unsavoury people he never even bothered to count. Patrick on the other hand is practically pristine, clean-cut, a boy-next-door who David is fairly sure has never established a first-name rapport with the receptionist at the local clinic. He wonders, just sometimes, if one day he might sully him irreparably, just like most other things in his life.

An impatient groan snaps him out of his mind, and he stares down at Patrick. There’s a pretty flush on the back of his neck. David wants to bite it. He’s burying his face in the sheets, grasping at them and mindlessly canting back onto David’s three fingers. He’d usually stop at two - Patrick likes the sting, that moment where he’s not sure if he can take it. Now, though, David teases his pinky at the stretched rim of his hole, just gently pressing at the muscle so Patrick knows it’s there, and he’s delighted when Patrick snaps, “Come on!” in the same infuriated voice he uses when the sports people on the TV hit the ball wrong.

“Oh, really, you want four?”

“That’s not what I - fucking - you know what I want, David, please.”

“Impatient,” David murmurs, but it’s soft and pressed into the nape of his neck with a sweet kiss. (Maybe a little bite, too, just for good measure.) “How d’you want it, babe?”

“On my back.” 

The reply is instant, and it surprises David. If it’s up to him, Patrick’s invariable favourite is exactly this - ass in the air, face smashed carelessly into the pillows. He loves bracing himself and shoving back into David’s thrusts, using the leverage of his knees planted on the bed to give as good as he’s getting even when David’s trying his best to pin him down and fuck him into submission.

“Okay. Okay,” David breathes out, accompanied by a few hundred nods. He gets it; as soon as Patrick flips over and locks eyes with him, he can’t imagine doing this without seeing that beautiful fucking face. 

Patrick’s barely touched him and he’s achingly hard. David takes himself in hand, stroking lightly and slicking up, then taps his dick against Patrick’s, deliberately tracing a line from his tip all the way down to his base, leaving a shiny little trail of pre-come and lube behind. It’s not where Patrick wants him - Patrick shoves a pillow under his hips and draws his legs up eagerly, holding himself wide open and obscene. He squirms with David’s teasing, trying and failing to twist himself closer, to guide David to his hole.

“Please,” he whispers, looking wrecked already. “Please, please.”

David licks his lips - nervous, hungry, every fucking thing he could ever possibly feel. Slowly, he slides the head of his cock over Patrick’s balls and down to his hole, and rests there. “Say it.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me raw. I want your bare fucking cock inside me.”

David groans and leans down to bite and lick into his pretty, dirty mouth, Patrick barely kissing him back as he pants against him. David can’t resist leaving a trail of bitemarks down his neck and chest, can’t resist pausing to suck at his nipple and relish the gasp he gets out of him - but that’s not what they’re doing here.

He straightens up and watches satisfaction flash across Patrick’s face, his knuckles white where he’s gripping his own thighs, presenting himself for the taking. “Do it.”

“Yeah - yeah,” and then David’s pushing just the tip inside, slow as sin, his own hands joining Patrick’s and holding him still as he gazes down between them - holy shit, that’s. That’s something. Aesthetically pleasing, David thinks ridiculously - the dark pink of his glistening cock-head sinking into him, Patrick’s hole stretching and catching so prettily on the ridge there that David has to do it again and again, drawing out and sliding back in just far enough to watch open up around it, but no further.

“Oh my god, oh my god - you’re gonna fucking kill me,” Patrick whines, high and trembling like David’s never heard him before. He’s straining against David’s hold on him, every bit of him vibrating to take what he wants. Patrick struggles up onto his elbows and cranes to look at where they’re joined, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of it, his expression hungry and hot. “Fuck me, fuck me, put it in, God please fuck me--”

David slams inside him all at once and chokes off the words in his throat, then stops there. And Patrick - Patrick sighs, a happy little sound which David could play on repeat forever. David rolls his hips lazily, his back straight as he gazes down at his boyfriend, gorgeous and wild and uninhibited. We’re really doing this, he thinks, and it’s not just about the sex.

“Oh - that feels - it feels…” Patrick can’t string a sentence together, keeps breaking off into gasps and stuttery breaths, but David wants to hear it.

“Yeah? Tell me. Tell me how it feels, Patrick.”

“I - oh my god, it’s so good, you feel so fucking good inside me, I can feel - fuck please don’t stop, I can fucking feel every little bit of you,” he gasps, and David’s hips start to snap forward of their own accord, spurred on by the heat Patrick’s words drip down his spine. Who knew all he had to do to completely dissolve his mental filter was bareback him?

“Yeah, Patrick,” David bites out, fucking him with short sharp pumps, staying deep inside him. David feels like he can almost map out each ring of muscle with his cock right now, every shift or squeeze of Patrick’s body around him so much more devastating than ever before. Maybe it really is that much more sensitive without a condom, or maybe it’s in his head; something about the closeness, the carnality of it lighting up his nerve endings, knowing there’s nothing between them and that each drop of pre-come from David’s cock is slicking his way, messing Patrick up inside.

Through the sex-haze, there’s a moment of clarity, where the scene in front of him seems to slow down and pull sharply into focus. David takes in the man spread out on this bed for him: a man who today wholly owned who he is and what he wants and who he loves; a man who, while David proudly watched on, has steadily learned to know himself. He’s so beautiful like this; his face is wide-open and he’s baring everything for David, completely unashamed of what he wants and so fucking determined to get it. David’s so in love he can barely breathe around it.

Patrick’s cock is flushed pink and heavy, jerking pitifully on his stomach with each thrust, and there’s a steady stream of whimpers which David usually doesn’t hear until they’ve been going at this a while. 

“You love it, don’t you?” David breathes out, quickening his thrusts a little and impatiently brushing a lock of still-damp hair off his forehead. “God, look at you, you’re so gorgeous taking my cock like this. You want it so bad, fucking want my come in you.”

“David - fuck yes, please yes, I want it, fuck!” It takes David a moment to register what’s happening - Patrick’s cock twitching fiercely and spurting out rope after rope of come onto his stomach, totally untouched. His face is screwed up and he squeezes almost painfully tight around David’s cock, body shaking and shuddering so hard that he actually twists to the side and off of his cock completely, though he lets out a disappointed moan as it happens.

“Patrick - Jesus Christ,” David breathes, instantly covering his body with his own, raining gentle, grounding kisses onto his face and his neck. He holds him firmly, containing the shivers still rocketing through him.

“Puhb’kin,” Patrick slurs into David’s chest hair, and David has to snort.

“Um. Excuse me?”

“Put it. Back in.” He’s deliberately enunciating, eyes half-lidded but very, very serious. “Said I want your come. So gimme it.”

David blinks and clears his throat primly. “Well, when you put it so eloquently.”

He kisses Patrick’s earlobe and pushes himself up enough to line his dick up, about to shift forward when Patrick hums and reaches for him. David watches, dumbfounded, as Patrick swipes his fingers through the come cooling on his stomach, then smears it over David’s bare cock. “Fuck me with it.”

“Oh my - oh my God, babe.” It’s fucking filthy, Patrick’s fist squelching on his cock as he coats him in Patrick’s slick mess - he can feel it dribbling down his balls, dripping onto the towel. “You gorgeous, dirty little thing.”

When David thrusts back inside in a gloriously messy slide, it flicks some kind of primal switch inside him, because suddenly he’s yanking the pillow out from beneath Patrick, lifting his hips clean off the bed and fucking into him hard and fast. Patrick yelps and gasps and grabs for the bars of the headboard, using it to shove back against David’s thrusts - oh yeah, there he is - the bed’s squeaking like crazy, thumping against the wall as David fucks Patrick’s own come into him. David spots a little dribbling out from his hole and without thinking he gathers it on his finger and wriggles it in alongside his cock, feeding it back into him, and Patrick cries out, his hips rolling and twisting desperately in David’s firm grip.

“Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fuck me fuck me - give it to me, David, want you to shoot your fucking load in me, ohgod, make me take it all, make a mess outta me.”

“Mm-hmm, but you’re already a mess, honey, you feel how sloppy you are?” David purrs, his voice blessedly level and matter-of-fact, a stark contrast to the harsh slaps of his balls against Patrick’s ass.

Patrick whimpers and nods clumsily, one hand unfurling from around a bar to grasp at his cock - which is, oh, it’s all nice and hard, still covered in come - fucking hell, did he ever get soft?

The sight sends a thrill through David, and he can feel his control slipping away from him, his mind pleasantly floating away to that hazy place where all he can think and feel and smell and taste is Patrick. There’s a tingling in the base of his spine and his cock is rock-fucking-hard. He blankets himself over Patrick, both moaning helplessly as the angle lets him rut in impossibly deeper. David smashes their mouths together in a kiss that’s mostly teeth and panting breaths.

“I love you,” David whispers, mouthing at the sweat on Patrick’s upper lip. Patrick can’t stop those beautiful moans to speak but he gazes at him with soft whiskey eyes and kisses him again, pouring his answer into it. David hears it, never wants to let it go. He presses his forehead to Patrick’s, a scorching sweat-slick heat between them as their bodies fit together everywhere they can, only David’s hips rutting at a heady, impossibly quick pace.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop - oh my god,” Patrick manages, and he sounds overwhelmed - a whole lot turned-on but a little panicked maybe. David holds him tighter, presses a kiss to his cheekbone. “I think - oh my god, I might come again, don’t stop, please don’t stop David holy fucking shit don’t you dare stop fucking me,” and okay, that’s really unfair.

David gasps his name, squeezing his eyes shut tight and desperately trying to hold on, but every filthy word out of his boyfriend’s mouth just pushes him closer to the brink. Patrick’s so into this he’s gonna come a second time, so fucking worked up just for David’s cock and David’s load - it’s searingly hot. He’s teetering, mindless in the way he fucks him, and he can’t stop, he’s never seen Patrick quite like this and it’s just too much - “Patrick, I can’t, I’m gonna, gonna fill you up--”

Patrick gives a dry sob, his hand furiously working between them as he writhes beneath David. “Not yet, please not yet, I’m so close, please please don’t stop, David--”

“I’m fucking - trying, oh my God - I can’t,” David groans, his hips stuttering as he - Oh my god, I’m coming in Patrick’s ass. His brain implodes and leaves a useless pile of goo inside his head because he’s coming in Patrick’s ass - he fucks him wildly through it, his face buried in Patrick’s hair as he trembles apart, pumping him full of spurt after spurt of hot come. He distantly registers a litany of “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” from Patrick, which is relatable; he can feel it coating Patrick’s insides and making his thrusts slippery, barely any friction, obscenely slick sounds filling the stifling air. It’s absolutely feral and disgusting and David fucking loves it, wants to do this every day of his life until he dies. “Sorry, I couldn’t - you’re so fucking hot,” he gasps out.

Patrick’s flushed red right down to his chest, biting his lip so hard David’s surprised it’s not bleeding, his eyes wild and urgent. He’s squirming futilely beneath David, one toned arm pushing at the bars of the bed to try in vain to fuck himself on David’s cock even as it begins to soften. “David,” he whispers, and he sounds like he’s about to cry, every inch of him pulled taut enough that he could snap at any second. David hushes him softly, glances between them to see how angry-pink his cock is, how hard and needy.

“I know, I know, I’ve got you.”

“I can’t - that was so - I need, I’m so…” 

David would usually admonish him for not saying what he wants, but Patrick’s done a lot of speaking his truth today, so he figures he can give him this one. Besides, multiple orgasms don’t come too easily to Patrick - every time David’s managed to drag a second out of him, it’s always intense and shocking and almost-too-much - so he’s not going to play with him. He’s slightly concerned he might actually explode if he doesn’t get him off soon.

David pushes himself up and starts to withdraw, but Patrick’s hole instantly grips at him as his firm thighs lock around David’s body. “Don’t go,” he mumbles, and David’s heart flips over in his chest.

“I have to, shh-shh, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” 

He shushes tenderly at the whimpered pleading from Patrick as he pulls out slowly, Patrick’s ass clenching around him like a vice until the last moment, where he gapes open beautifully for him. It’s a sight David’s never tired of, but the sloppy dribbles of white slowly leaking down his crack and onto the towel - oh, that’s new. That is fucking delicious. 

“Jesus Christ, you look… you’re such a mess,” David breathes out in awe, settling between his legs and gazing at his sloppy entrance like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. “You’re so full of both of us, Patrick, so fucking greedy. Look at that slutty little hole.”

“David, please, just, anything,” Patrick gasps, tugging at his cock, so David follows the singular impulse he has and buries his face in Patrick’s ass. “Fuck - oh fuck!” Patrick shouts, bucking up off the bed and tangling one hand in David’s hair (which, okay, David just washed and conditioned it and that hand probably has come on it, but, it’s fine).

David laps at him eagerly, big hands spreading him wide as he moans at the combined taste of them, salty-bitter and dirty and deliciously mixed with that familiar soap-clean musk of Patrick. He swallows some of it and spears his tongue inside for more, sucking it out of him, his stubbled chin covered in sticky wetness. He dips his thumbs inside, massaging just inside his rim and coaxing more come out of him.

“Yeah, honey, that’s it - give it to me, there you go,” he breathes out, and Patrick moans weakly and pushes a little flood of come out of his ass. David greedily laps it up, the flat of his tongue spreading it all over him as his stubble catches deliberately against the sensitive, puffy skin.

Patrick’s sobbing, all “Yesyesyesyesyes,” and his hand’s flying on his cock but his grip looks dry, so David dips two fingers easily inside him, then smears his hand over his hole and between his cheeks, and replaces Patrick’s hand with his own, jacking him fast with come and lube and sweat and spit. Patrick’s getting louder and louder and then he makes a noise David can only describe as a scream as he comes hard, coating David’s hand with even more mess, harsh jerks shocking through his body.

Panting, David gives one last hard suck to his hole, gathering up what he can, and it makes Patrick twitch so hard that he almost knees David in the face as he crawls up his body.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Patrick sounds broken, and David shoots him a dangerous smirk as he grabs his chin and tilts his head for a kiss. He coaxes his lips open and curls his tongue against Patrick’s, pushing their come into his mouth and feeling it swirl as they kiss. Patrick whimpers and melts against him, hungrily licking at his mouth until it’s all gone, shared between them. 

Patrick doesn’t seem to want to part, the kisses gradually winding down into softer and softer pecks, until David’s mouthing gently at Patrick’s bottom lip and trailing gentle kisses along the line of his jaw. When he finally pulls back enough to look at him, he notices his eyelashes are dark and clumped, and there’s a little wetness under his eyes. His stomach drops. Shit.

“Fuck, wait, are you - are you okay?” He thumbs instinctively at the tears, swiping them away and kissing the damp, hot skin in their wake.

“Yes.” It’s a sigh - the same happy little sigh he’d let out when David had first breached him. “So okay. It’s not - uh, it’s not bad tears? It was so fucking good, it was just so much.”

“Okay. Okay. Good.” David steadies his breathing. He shifts to the side, wrapping Patrick up in his arms and ignoring the stickiness between them, for now. “Never seen you react like that.”

“Well, that’s because I never - never have,” Patrick confesses, looking a little embarrassed. “I can say with one hundred percent certainty I’ve never cried during sex. Until now.”

David frowns and squeezes him, disapproving of the judgemental tone to his voice. “Hey. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens when things get really, really intense. God, you have literally no idea how hot it is to see you lose it like that. I fucking loved it, Patrick.”

Patrick smiles and rubs his cheek into David’s chest, his hand idly tracing patterns in the sweat cooling on his skin. “Me too.”

“Thank God we’re on the same page. You know, I wasn’t entirely sure - two screaming orgasms are pretty hard to interpret.”

“I only screamed once,” Patrick grumbles, and David snickers, petting his hair. “It was okay for you, right? I mean, I know you said topping would be fine, but the stuff you told me--”

“Mm-hm,” David nods quickly, not wanting to spoil this moment by dwelling on his past, but needing to reassure him. “It was more than okay. All of that - you’re nothing like it. Not even close. I would very, very much do that again, whenever you’d like.”

“Well, good. I’ll pencil you in.”

David lets the silence stretch comfortably, lets their breaths settle and their pulses slow. “Hey,” he murmurs into Patrick’s hair, stroking his back. “I’m really proud of you.”

“For taking all that come in my ass? Me too.”

David stretches to slap said ass, rolling his eyes. “Alright, never mind. I was going to be sincere.”

“No! C’mon,” Patrick laughs, moving so his chin rests on David’s chest and he’s looking up at him through his lashes. David briefly forgets what he was going to say anyway, struck by just how pretty he is, and puzzling over how on earth Patrick is his.

“Nope. You missed your chance.”

“Well, luckily, you’re pretty easy to read, so you don’t need to say it.”

David tries to arrange his face into a picture of neutrality just to be contrary, but in the process ends up wriggling through every emotion and thought he’s got in his head, and Patrick laughs at him because yeah, okay, fine.

“Thank you, David,” Patrick murmurs, earnest and soft.

“What, for coming in your ass?” David quips back at him with a sarcastic little smirk. He couldn’t resist. “You’re very welcome.”

Patrick laughs, thumps him with a pillow, and drags him into the shower.